Stained And Shattered
by araconos
Summary: The line between anguish and anger is thin, oh so very thin... And what if Elsa had crossed that line? (Rated M for violence. Lots of violence. GOT crossover, but you do not need to have read it to read this.) Elsa, slight AnnaxKristoff. Prepare for Badassery
1. Regicide - Chapter One

**Go watch Frozen for the second/third/nine millionth time. Get to the part where Anna turns fully to ice and Hans' sword shatters. Pause it right there.**

**Imagine Elsa being a little less sad and a little more pissed. **

**You got it? Now lean back and enjoy.**

**00000**

'Elsa!' That voice, so familiar. It sounded so weak, so lost. Could it be? Dare she believe?

No. Hans had no reason to lie - he seemed good enough, even if he had tried to marry her sister the day he met her. Anna must surely be dead - this much she was sure of. And it was all her fault...

The crippling guilt began to settle in, and she pulled her knees to her chest, too mournful to hear the running footsteps head towards her. She didn't hear the labored breathing, the swooshing sound that the sword made as it traveled through the cold air in a mission to find blood.

She heard that voice again - just a quick 'No!' this time - and then a tingling as if her chandelier had fallen yet again. The footsteps she had heard in the back of her mind halted, and she was pushed forward by a small shockwave, sliding a few centimeters forward across the ice. There was a muffled 'oomph' as a body hit the ground. There was the crackle of ice forming, then silence. Cold, blessed silence.

She turned around hesitantly, then found a hand of blue ice, held palm first towards her. Her eyes traveled up the blue arm that was attached to it, crossed the dress she had seen earlier that day, finding the braids that would surely be red if they were not that terrible, frozen blue.

She dashed to her feet, and ran to the front of the frozen form. Elsa's frozen heart broke as she saw her sisters face, frozen in a scene of torment and fear. In her bath of self loathing, she did not recognize the protectiveness that was there as well.

She stepped forward once, hand reaching out to touch the frozen figure. She took a second step forward, then her foot slipped on something and she fell onto her back, the wind knocked out of her.

She couldn't have possibly slipped on ice - ice molded to her feet, protected her, kept her up when she needed it to. He gaze dropped down to the shard of steel that she had slipped on. Confused, as if her mind contained the maelstrom that had graced the frozen shores just moments ago, she noticed the hand that Anna had outstretched before her, as if warding off an attack.

_Who was attacking Anna?_ In her bath of self-hatred, she didn't even pause to think that Anna could have been protecting her. Elsa stood up slowly, noticing the dozens of metal shards that littered the icy expanse, her eyes stopping when they noticed the top half of a sword, stuck in the ice by Anna's feet. Her eyes narrowed, and she whirled around, directing all her loss and anger to the figure at her feet.

"You." The word dripped from her lips like venom, and the redheaded man - boy, really - knew that he should have killed her when he had the chance.

"Your... Your Majesty, what has happened? I swear I -" The gears in Hans' mind turned, as he desperately tried to think up a way to get out of his predicament. He looked up at the queens face, noting that her eyes were not aimed at him, but at his right hand. His eyes darted down, and he remembered the broken hilt of his sword a little to late for his liking. Eyes narrowed, he looked up to the queen, and his words froze in his mouth.

If looks could kill...

"Uhm, this? I just uh, found, it..." He lifted the broken half-blade, testing its weight in his hand. Elsa began to stalk towards him, each footfall echoing off the hulls of frozen ships and making him wince slightly. How did she not trip while stomping in a dress?

After a moment, he decided verbal trickery was not the best option, and went to flee. He slowly started to stand, getting to one knee when a wave of stinging ice was flung at his face. He dashed to the side, but a few still nicked his cheek. Shocked, he reached up and felt the side of his face. Warm crimson stained his glove when he brought it back into view.

Hans grew even colder at the thought. Sure, he had always run risks of imprisonment - playing his brothers off each other, committing treason left and right, stealing secrets, hearts and promises and using them to blackmail - but for the first time, a worse risk faced him.

He was going to die here.

In a fit of desperation, he flung the hilt of his sword at Elsa. Without her so much as moving her hands, a wall of ice grew out of the ground and smashed it out of her way. When the wall cleared her vision, Hans was on the run back to the town.

Elsa had never felt this much emotion in her life. Not when she had hurt her sister as a child, not when her parents had died, not even when she had been attacked at the castle. But right now, all her guilt, her depression, her years of loneliness and self-pity poured into this one, powerful feeling.

Hatred.

She hated the man who ran like a coward before her. Hated him for ruining her coronation night. Hated him for chasing after him with that hunting party. Hated him for lying to her, hated him for making her _kill her sister._

With a wave of her hand, a ball of ice and snow appeared in front of Hans, and the giant she had unthinkingly created at her Ice Manor pulled itself to its knees, once giant claw snatching the Prince before Hans could escape. The goliath began to squeeze, and Elsa could hear ribs pop.

"Sion, no. Bring him to me." The giant stopped squeezing, turning to look at his creator and master. He nodded once, then his booming voice rang out over the ice.

"**Yes. This is your kill.**"

Hans, ever the valiant icon of honor and manliness, fainted.

When he woke, his hands were cold. His back hurt and he knew that his ribs were cracked, and he couldn't seem to get enough to breath. One of his lungs must have been injured.

He opened his eyes, trying to stand, but he could not. His hands were chained to the ice, secured by that same material. He looked up, and saw the monster before him. It grinned, then spoke.

"Oh good, prince Hans. How nice of you to join us." Elsa purred, and he knew he was just waiting to die now. Her eyes were wild, crazy. She licked his lips, then kneeled before him.

"Well, Hans. Today, you die. It's very simple, really." She grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face this way and that as she examined him. "We have a witness - an ice-harvester and his reindeer took my sister back to the kingdom. I told him of my plans, and sent him on his way. He seemed... Pleasant enough."

"Your Majesty, please, I beg of you-" His words were cut short by a backhanded slap.

"Do not speak to me. And do not call me that anymore - I am no longer queen." Hans' shocked look must have amused her, because she giggled. "No. I have committed a grave sin twice now - three times when this is over. Once when my parents died - I know it must have been my fault that they went on that trip. They didn't tell me what it was, so it must have had something to do with my... my curse." She bit her lip at this, and he was shocked to see it draw blood.

"Once again with my sister, and now, you." She sighed, then stood, and he noticed she no longer wore her flowing dress. She now wore deep, dark blue trousers and a buttoned-up shit, as well as a red - _how on earth could ice be red?_ - vest. She tugged on the cuff of her sleeves, then kneeled back down. "Well. Prince Hans -" She chuckled. "I still don't know your last name. Oh well." Clearing her throat, she looked him in the eyes, and he saw no pity or mercy there. Just disgust and contempt.

"Prince Hans, thirteenth in line for the throne of the southern isles, formerly betrothed to Princess Anna of Arendelle, as my last act as Queen I hearby sentence thee to death. Any last words?"

He opened his mouth, desperately trying to think of some way to talk his way out of this. He had done it before. He could do it again. Surely no one could resist his infamous charm and wit? He cleared his throat, then began to talk.

"Please -" Elsa suddenly silenced him with her lips, breathing deep into his throat. He was shocked into silence, and when she pulled away she spat onto the ice. He felt an odd tickle in the back of his throat, then a burning chorus of pain as he began to freeze from the inside. He shook in his chains, trying not to escape his fate but to escape the agony that was the end of his life.

After quite a few minutes, nothing remained of the prince but a blue statue, face frozen in torment, veins popping in his neck. He still wore his clothes, but they were dusted in frost. The queen sighed, then turned to her companion. "Shame. I wished he would have chosen dignity over trying to escape again. Would have been a lot less painful."

The hulking behemoth didn't say a word, merely raised a giant, flat bottomed foot to crush the corpse of the man who now surely resided in hell. _Where I may rest quite soon as well._ Elsa thought, grim. She stopped Sion in his attempt of crushing what was left of him.

"Leave his corpse as a warning of what I - what we are capable of. They will send less after us if they fear us for the monsters we are." Sion pulled his foot back, then turned to his master.

"**Where do we go?**"

She paused, thinking. Then she shrugged.

"Does it matter? Let us go farther north than the north mountains, and see what awaits us." The giant nodded, then kneeled. Elsa climbed onto his outstretched hand, settling on his shoulder. They departed, leaving no evidence of their departure save the giants footprints, which were soon blown away in the wind.

**00000**

**So, Yeah. This is not going to be a journey of love and sappy romance and things like that. It's going to be bloody and violent. If you wanted some Sister+Sister bonding time, I'm afraid you're in the wrong place. There's going to be plenty of emotion, but not so much fluff and happy times.**

**Please leave a comment/review/death-threat if you feel like it. I'm not going to start charging a toll until I feel like writing this becomes taxing, which wont be a while because I really am looking forward to writing this.**

**Cyaround.**

**-Arac**


	2. Introductions - Chapter Two

They held Anna's funeral a week after her death. Most of the population was still in shock, but there was more confusion than sorrow at the loss of their young princess. It was a strange, strange event - not really a funeral, seeing as the kingdoms greatest minds were trying the hardest to thaw their only remaining royalty. She was still frozen solid, blue as the depths of the sea, one arm outstretched and a look of fear on her icey visage.

Many people speculated as to what had happened on that frozen ocean. Some said that Anna had tried to stop Elsa from killing Hans, and it had backlashed on the two lovers. Some said that Elsa had tortured Hans before his wife's eyes, and some said that Elsa had sacrificed the two for some dark ritual. There were a small, pitiful few who believed in the Queen's innocence, and they held their tongues. Well, some of them did. The one who didn't was chained to the wall of the building, his blonde hair dirty as his light brown eyes shed tears for the statue before him.

Kristoff was not well known by the people of the kingdom. The only people who had had dealings with the ice trader were those that he sold his cargo to and those he bought supplies from. The testified he was distant and rude, and had a habit of talking to animals as if they could understand him. He had rode into town on his ridiculous reindeer, the cold form of Anna in his arms, swearing up and down that prince Hans had attempted to kill both of the royal sisters. The story was dismissed immediately - Prince Hans, a murderer? The boy had been nothing but kind to everyone he had ever met.

No, the Queen - Ex-Queen - was as dangerous as the ice she loved so much. Beautiful, sparkling even, but deadly sharp and loving no one. She had brought up so many problems in her short rule of three days - freezing the entire bay, hurting her own guards, killing her newlywed sister and her husband. Even now, the members of Prince Hans' party were hiking to the less - frozen areas, where they would take a ship to their home of island chains. The distance to the Southern Isles was quite a ways, to say the least, but the Islanders had left with a grim promise on their lips.

The Exile, Elsa Arendelle was to be brought to punishment for her crimes within by next year, when they would arrive. If she was not, there would be hell to pay.

Maybe even war.

But right now, the people of the capitol were gathered in the room where the traitorous queen had been crowned not even a week before. Whispers, glances and glares were directed to the prisoner chained to the wall. But Kristoff had only eyes for the frozen girl in the glass box, sealed with gold siding. Ice formed on the box, as the girl of ever-lasting ice made the area around her cold. But the kingdom was still frozen solid, everywhere. Breath fogged up the air, and people wore thick jackets and rub their hands together in futile efforts to stave off the cold.

The choir began to sing, the low, mournful voices of the men overlaid with the high, soaring women's voices. The whispering of the crowd stopped, although the wandering eyes of the curious crowd did not.

Kai stood at the podium at the front of the room, staring out over the crowd. Anna was behind him, to the left, and a painting of the girl sat on an easel to his right. As the choir finished it's singing, he began to speak.

"Today, we mourn the loss of our beautiful princess, Anna. We do not know what curse inflicts her; and we will not stop trying to free her from it. But as far as we know, Anna has joined her ancestors in heaven, and today, we pray for her soul."

Kristoff heard not a word of this speech. He _knew_ that if he some how managed to touch Anna, she would come back to him. Not kiss her, even hold her, not even grab her hand. After two nights in the dungeon, he knew that he loved her so much that any act would be an act of true love. But he was chained to the wall in the back of the room, forced to know that he could free her at any moment if he could just touch her. So he stared, straining at his iron bonds, a guard on each side of him, tears poring down his face as they prepared to seal her away in a _laboratory_ of some sort. Where they would poke and prod her, trying to find a way to free the girl when he knew how it would happen.

He was shocked out of his misery by a whiny from outside the room. A very, very familiar whiny. The clop of hooves rang out against the icy cobble street, and someone shouted "Stop that reindeer!" His guards looked at each other curiously - no one else could hear the commotion except those in the back. One of them left to check on the commotion, then came back a few moments later, his eye blackened.

"A little help, man? This beast is out of control!" The remaining guard took a quick look at their prisoner, who still stared ahead at the glass coffin. "Come on, he ain't going anywhere!" The guards exited, not noticing the small white figure who deftly lifted the keys off of the guard's belt as he ran by.

Olaf padded slowly up to Kristoff, unnoticed by the crowd - so far. He was pretty short, after all. Kristoff grinned at him, then looked back to the Anna as he was freed from the chains. "Come on, we have to go." Olaf whispered, but he just looked back to the glass that surrounded her. It didn't look very thick...

Olaf did _not _like the look on Kristoff's face. And he really didn't like it when Kristoff told him that he had an idea...

The people in the crowd gaped at the little white man as he ran down the isles, climbing up onto the podium. "Hey look guys! A dancing snowman!" Olaf began to spin around on the stand, and everyone looked at him, a mix of confused and horrified. A few more dramatic women fainted.

No one noticed Kristoff slowly approaching the glass that seperated him from Anna. No one noticed him raise the brick he had snatched from the street.

Everyone noticed when he smashed the glass, the sound of it breaking like ice shattering. The guards stared in shock, then ran towards him, wrapping arms around him even as he stretched his hand out to grab her cold, blue one. It now seemed outstretched towards him, as if she needed him to pull her out of the cage that had been built for her.

He elbowed one of the guards in the face, throwing the brick at the other one. Their holds loosed momentarily, and he dove forward, wrapping his hand in hers.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the crowd collectively gasped as her blue hand turned pale pink, her dress unfroze and swayed as the ice receded. The guards grabbed back ahold of the man, but this time someone else pulled him forward even as he was pulled back.

Anna blinked, confused, but she knew that someone was pulling on her hand and she did not want to be dragged out of bed. She had been having the strangest dream... Something about living snowmen and talking reindeer. She opened her eyes, and they met Kristoff's, and she squealed as she let him pull her forward.

"You came back! Oh thank god. Oh thank god." She mumbled, her arms around his back and her head resting on his shoulder. The guards figured that she probably wanted the man nearby, and they backed away. Suddenly Anna looked up, scared. "Wheres Elsa?"

The question broke the crowd out of their stupor, but no one was sure how to answer it. They milled around for a bit, until one man yelled "The witch ran away, your majesty! You have nothing to fear now!"

Anna let go of Kristoff, her scared gaze turning into a glare as she scanned the crowd. "Who said that?" No one stood up to the crime, but after a few seconds under that burning gaze the man was shoved forward, confused.

"Y-your Majesty? The... the queen fled after she attacked you and your husband. We sent out a search party, but they found no trace of the traitor -" he rocked back as Anna swung a fist at him, stopped only by Kristoff grabbing her hand.

"The hell do you mean, attacked us? Elsa is no traitor! She did everything she could to protect me, and... Husband?" Anna started off her response furious, but then suddenly got confused. "I'm not... married..."

The man, who was quite a bit less confident than he was before, replied slowly and quietly. "P-Prince Hans said that..."

He dove back into the crowd as Anna's glare grew more intense, her face starting to turn red. "Oh yes, I bet Hans said a lot of things. Where is that bastard? I have a fist with his name on it. To even think about raising a sword against my sister -"

The crowd realized that they had probably hadn't been told the truth. But the man had one last comment before he melted back into the crowd.

"B-But your Majesty, there was no sword found at the scene."

Elsa's sword gleamed in the light of the moon, revealing its many cracks and fractures. It was held together by ice, and at this moment, a fair amount of hope. She swung it lamely, scoring a hit on the wolf as it lunged towards her. The sword was a lot heavier than she gave it credit for, and her arms trembled as she struggled to keep it up in both hands. The pack of wolves had pressed her up against the edge of the cliff, and her leg bled from a wound that head been scored against her in the start of the fight.

Sion was somewhere far, far below her - he seemed to have a habit of being pushed off cliffs. The wolves had woken her up with their howls, and she had summoned him in a fit of panic. The hulking snowman had been just as confused as she was, and the wolves had quickly herded him to the icy edge of the cliff that Elsa had chosen to sleep on - _Because I wanted to see the sunset._ Elsa thought to herself, bitterly. At least it had been a good one, because it was likely the last she would ever see. Sion had been unable to even score a single hit on the wolves, and in a fit of anger she had stomped his massive foot, breaking part of the ledge and sending him spiraling into the abyss with a few of the hounds.

But there were plenty more left in the pack, and the loss of their comrades seemed to only make them more vicious. She couldn't use her powers - every time she raised her hand to cast them, a wolf would lunge, and she would be forced to grip the sword again to scare it off. But her arms were tiring, and the wolves looked ready to try a combined attack when suddenly there was a massive howl from behind the pack, and they made a passage as two more wolves arrived. Elsa's eyes widened in fear.

The wolves were massive. Utterly gigantic. They looked to be almost as tall as she was, and each of their teeth was as large as a steak knife. Their paws were the size of dinner plates, and they had massive, dark eyes that stared at her. One was pure, blinding white, and the other was a shining silver. They padded up to a few feet of her, and Elsa futilely raised her sword, closing her eyes and looking away.

She felt something slam into her sword hand, and the sword skittered out of her grasp and onto the ground. She stumbled, her arms flailing as she toppled over the edge, but something snagged her vest and tugged her back over. She looked in front of her and was startled to see the curious eyes of the silver wolf, who had caught her clothing in its jaws. She saw no hunger or malice there - just curiosity and intelligence. The wolf sat down, looking at her, then began to wag its tail furiously.

Elsa couldn't help it - she laughed. The wolf she had been so scared of was now acting like a common dog! She held her hand over her mouth, her eyes closed as she shook with mirth. When she opened them, the white wolf and the other, smaller ones had left. The silver one stood some distance away, looking over its shoulder at her. It took a few steps, then turned to look back.

_Does... does it want me to follow it?_ She wondered, slowly bending over to grab the sword. In an instant, the wolf lunged at her, slamming its feet onto the sword. The silver blade spun as she watched it fly over the edge of the cliff. She looked back up to the wolf, who was wagging his tail as he watched it fall down.

"Well. I didn't want it anyways." She lied, and the wolf barked once. It turned back around to face the woods, and then turned to look at her. She could almost see what it was thinking.

_You coming or not?_

She sighed, but she knew she didn't really have any other options. This wolf was obviously tame, and if she had to guess it was bringing her to see its master. She walked after it, slowly, and the wolf wagged its tail again as they began their journey.

So Elsa followed after the giant wolf, heading off to meet the man who could tame such a beast.

Soon they reached a cave, set midway down the mountain that she had had Sion carry her to over their two day walk. The wolf went inside, eagerly trotting in towards the light of a fire and the smell of cooking meet. After a moment, Elsa followed it in.

"Ah, so our visitor finally arrives, I see." She turned towards the voice, and only saw a mountain of white fur. After a moment, she realized that it was the white wolf from before, and as it moved to greet its compainion it revealed two men, seated by a fire. One had dark black hair, pulled back and tied with a leather strap. He wore a black cloak and she suspected that the sword at his hip was not the only blade in his possession. This man didn't bother to look at her, and she felt slighted for a moment. Then she realized that he was clearing a place next to him for her to sit.

As she sat down, she noticed the other man, who looked a few years younger than the other one. He wore a tan leather coat, and she was shocked to see strange metal braces around his legs. At his side were two crutches, she realized that he must not be able to walk normally. But all thoughts of his disfigurement were cast from her mind at his next words.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Queen Elsa. I am Brandon Stark, and this is my brother, John snow."


	3. Foreshadowing - Chapter Three

There were many things Elsa didn't like. Her bed head. Very hot days. Those stupid chocolates with fruit inside. People who knew more about her than she knew about them.

Right now, there air was cold and her hair was fine. And unfortuneatly, there was no chocolate in sight. Just these two men with dark hair, smiling up at her and greeting her by name, even though she had never seen them in her entire life.

Elsa decided not to sit too comfortably in the seat that the older man - Jon, was it? - had prepared for her. The younger one, Brandon, just continued to smile up at her.

"If you know my name, you should know by now that I am no longer queen." Elsa said, looking around the cave. There only seemed to be one exit, but the two wolves had sat down in front of it, resting their heads on their paws and watching her intently. She had very little chance of escaping.

"Please, Your Majesty, be calm. We mean you no ill will." Brandon stretched, placing the bowl in his lap onto the ground beside him. "And you are, indeed, the queen. You may have stripped the title from yourself, but the kingdom has yet to renounce you."

Elsa laughed, bitterly. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring into the fire. "If they haven't yet, they certainly will soon. Murderess Queens don't last very long." Brandon just stilled, looking at her as if he was examining a rather disgusting bug.

"That boy deserved to die a long, long time ago." He said, reaching for the ladle in the pot that hung over the fire. He scooped out a bowlful of the stew, then passed it to Elsa. She looked into it for a while, then decided she didn't really care what the meat was. She was damn hungry.

In between spoonfuls, she asked "What do you mean by that? And how, exactly, do you know all this?" The stew really was good. The meat tasted like venison, which was a rarity when she was growing up. _If I'm going to run, I might as well do it on a full stomach._

John suddenly stood up, heading towards the entrance of the cave. He rubbed the fur of the white wolf, scratching it under its jaw. The wolf hummed happily, and padded after him as he exited. "Bran, I'm going to go get some more fire wood. Don't scare our guest off, ok?"

Bran rolled his eyes. "I swear. I'm definitely odd, but I'm not horrific, am I?" He sighed, then looked at Elsa, leaning forward slightly. "When I was seven, I was hurled off the top of a castle tower that I was foolishly climbing up." Elsa blinked, startled, then reached for the bowl of soup.

"I apologize. That must have been... terrifying. Is that how you..." She gestured to his legs, digging in to her second bowl of the stew. It was really, really good.

Bran sighed, stretching his arms. "Yes, that is how I lost the use of my legs. However, I gained something much more... important in exchange for them." He patted the ground next to him and the silver wolf padded over, sitting down next to him. Elsa realized that this was her best chance to run if she wanted to. One of the wolves was gone, and she could easily freeze the other if she had to. And it wasn't as if Bran could catch her if she ran...

She felt a moment of guilt as she thought that, but then she stretched out her legs and pressed her hands to the ground. Bran wasn't blind, however.

"You can leave at any time, if you so please. But you and I have much to discuss, Your Majesty." Bran smiled at her, nodding when Elsa settled back onto the ground.

"I thought I told you not to call me that. I'm no longer the Queen. As far as the kingdom is concerned, the Royal line of Arendelle ended with me." She muttered, crossing her arms and drawing her knees back up. She felt a massive wave of guilt from this last statement, shook it away. She couldn't let the grief consume her, not here at least.

Bran continued on with his story. "Shortly after I awoke from the coma I had entered, I began to have strange dreams. Nightmares, really. At first they made no sense. Sometimes I would be in the body of a wolf, sometimes I would be watching men fight... or die." He grimaced. "I was eventually taught that I had developed a 'third eye,' so to speak. While the two eyes you can see now look into the present, my 'third' one sees the future."

Elsa looked at him curiously, then shrugged. Who was she, of all people, to try and disprove him?

"I can only see in short bursts, but what I do see is always important. For example, about a week ago I dreamed of a girl with pure white hair turning to ice in order to save her sister." Elsa shifted, uncomfortable with this revelation.

"The next day, I saw that same sister, besieged by wolves, and then I saw Summer here -" He patted the coat of the wolf, who panted eagerly and laid down on his front paws, content to rest by the warmth of the fire. " - rescue that girl from a pack of hungry wolves. From that, I figured that I had to take control of Summer to have him rescue you." The look on her face must have revealed her confusion, because Bran laughed and continued to talk.

"Sometimes when I sleep, or am otherwise unconscious, I dream of the future, of things that will come to pass whether I try to stop them or not. Some times, I simply dream. But most of the time - and these are my favorite dreams - I _am_ Summer here. I become the wolf, and I run around the forest. I hunt, I watch, I play, I run." He smiled, a far-away look in his eyes. "Very rarely is my sleep dreamless."

The was a clatter of falling wood, and Elsa jumped up, startled. Snowflakes formed in the palms of her hands, and she raised them in defense. John just looked at her, amused and quite plainly intrigued. He placed the rest of the firewood on the ground, and then went to take his seat. His wolf padded, silent as a fog bank, to his side and sat down. "Sorry to startle you, Your Majesty. I was trained to be silent, and well... They don't call him Ghost for nothing." John said, patting the wolfs flank affectionately. The wolf didn't respond, just stared at Elsa with those red eyes.

"Ah, and I see you are not without talents of your own. We knew you had the gift of Cold - the trolls are quite talkative if you give them enough mead." Bran laughed, and Elsa sat down, cautiously. "So. Time to get to business."

"We are here for one reason, and one reason only, Your Majesty." John said, reaching into a pack on the ground beside him. He continued, still searching. "There is a war coming to your land, and the lands nearby." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Winter has come to Arendelle. And that means disastrous consequences."

He pulled a short sword, still in its sheath, from the back, then placed it on his lap. He dug out a whetstone, then pulled the sword from its sheath. Elsa gasped. The sword - swords - were unlike any she had ever seen before. The metal shone a vibrant, pale blue, with runic markings that seemed to glow white in the firelight. The blade of the swords only had one edge, but John twisted the handle of it and the sword spilt in half down the middle, revealing that there were two pale blue blades. The blade was curved, and looked about three feet long and one foot wide at its widest. The blades each had a strange hook at the very tops on the un-sharpened edge. He began to sharpen the blades, running the stone along the edge in long, smooth strokes.

"The Southern Isles plan to declare war upon your kingdom." Bran's statement took her attention away from the mesmerizingly beautiful swords, and she looked at him with fear. "You know as well as I do that Arendelle would stand no chance against a nation as large as theirs." She nodded at the truth of that statement.

The Southern Isles was an old, old nation, much more ancient than the relatively new nation of Arendelle. Whereas her small country had been formed a little less than four centuries ago, the massive chain of islands that was the Southern Isles was a kingdom millennia old. There were more than thirty thousand islands under the control of the southern islands, so large of a country in fact that the king could not control the entirety of it on his own. The kingdom was known for producing many, many heirs, and each would control a small section of the Islands. The king himself, however, would retain control over a third of the islands and the massive island known as Synholme. That one island on its own was easily the size of Arendelle itself. It was no surprise that the Southern Isles was the most powerful nation of their time.

"Thankfully for you, word has not reached the Southern isles yet - the members of the late prince's party have had to trek to a port outside of your Great Freeze." Elsa grimaced at that, guilty yet again about something she had done. She seemed to ruin everything she touched. "But once they reach their home port, all of Prince Han's naval fleet, and a few of his brothers as well, will descend upon Arendelle. Once they arrive, which will be in about a year and a half, there will be two options for the kingdom." He cleared his throat, holding up one finger as he spoke to the queen. "One. They will ask for you, bound in chains, to be delivered to their custody. Or two, they will immediately declare war upon the Arendelle." He held up a hand to stop Elsa's protests. "Hear me out, Your Maje-"

"Oh will you stop calling me that already? And the choice here is obvious. I will return to Arendelle immediately and give myself up for the good of the kingdom. Might as well do something to make up for all the wrongs I have done." Elsa cut him off, already planning how she would get back to the kingdom. John spoke up from her other side, however.

"Your Majes..." Elsa glared at him, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. The swords were re-sheathed, the whetstone disappeared back into the pack at his side. "Fine. Elsa, think about this. There will be nearly twelve hundred ships, sitting in the bay of your kingdom. If you hand yourself over, do you think that they will just take you and bring you back to their homeland?"

Elsa bit her lower lip, then shook her head. John pressed on. "You're right. They'll probably make a big show of executing you in front of the whole kingdom, and then they'll declare war on your kingdom anyways. They have nothing to lose - you just killed one of their royal house without trial or legal justification. The World Court cannot dispute their claim, even if they wanted to." He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. "They'll force a marriage and keep a puppet on the throne, probably-" He stopped as Bran shook his head slightly, unseen by Elsa as she stared into the fire, rubbing her temples with her thumbs. "- Probably a member of the royal court, whoever takes over the kingdom now that you have left."

"So... So what am I going to do, then? If I surrender myself, they might at least take over the kingdom peacefully." John just snorted, laughing at her naivety.

"Elsa, either way there will be bloodshed. The Southern Isles Navy has not been in action in decades. They know that if you don't show up, they will have to fight to capture the nation. And if they execute you publicly like they plan to, Arendelle will fight them to restore their honor." He shook his head, standing up, pulling a much longer sword, also sheathed, out of the pack. He strapped it to his belt, then picked up the swords he had sharpened earlier.

"No, there is only one way you can save your homeland - and I hate to say this, but it is indeed the only way. You will have to travel far to the North-East of here, and take command of an army that resides there. They will listen to you, and obey you, but only if you force them to."

Elsa looked at him, curiously. "How on earth do you plan on making an army that I have never seen nor heard of before obey me, an Exiled Queen?" John walked over to her and held out his hand, pulling her up. He handed her the smaller pair of swords, then turned to walk a fair distance away from her.

"The army he speaks of is an army of monsters and demons, and they will obey you because they are servants to the cold. They are an army of men, enslaved by the power of ice. We call them the Others." Bran said. Elsa examined the sheath in her hands, noticing the strong leather that held it together and the runic markings that decorated it.

"They will obey you, Elsa, Lord of Cold and Ice. But we cannot journey all the way with you - our mission will stop us before then. No, you will have to make the journey yourself." As he said this, he drew the sword from his belt. He grasped the hilt with both hands, and rested it point first, on the ground.

"I can't make such a journey on my own!" Elsa said, having a feeling that she knew where this was going.

"Not in your current state, you can't. Which is why you are going to have to learn to fight." John said, raising his sword up, the hilt at his waist-height. The sword stilled in its motion, and Elsa gasped as it suddenly burst into flame. John swung lightbringer at Elsa, she could only watch as a wave of fire and steel raced to kiss her flesh.

**So. Little introduction thingy here. My name is Araconos, and this is not the first FanFiction I have written, but I have the feeling that this will be the one I stick with. (Sorry to the people who have read my other two; I'm terrible at commitment.)**

**So. If you enjoy this story, please please PLEASE don't hesitate to follow, favorite, review. Every little bit helps me out. I'll try to update once a week, ****_but_**** if I somehow manage to get, say, 6 reviews the chapter might come out a little faster...**

**:D Blackmail, I know. Anyways. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it!**

**- Arac**


	4. Wanted - Chapter Four

For the past three weeks, Anna had been resisting many urges. The urge to rip her hair out. The urge to rip _other_ peoples hair out. After the first couple weird looks, she stopped talking to Joan. And right now, she was resisting the urge to run into Kristoffs room and curl up in his arms.

But right now, there was work to be done. The table of men in front of her bickered, and it seems that there were holds barred. Names, accusations, and snappy remarks flew like arrows. She resisting yet another urge: to grab one of the axes hanging from the walls and start hacking until they all shut up or left. But she had duties to deal with, now that she was the ruler.

_Oh Elsa_. She thought. _Why did you leave me with all this crap to deal with?_

The Duke of Weselton, who had decided to make himself part of these meetings for whatever reason, was foremost at the shouting match.

"We demand compensation for the time we have lost trapped on this godforsaken island!" He shouted, standing on a chair in order to be seen by the rest of the group. Many of the foreign dignitaries agreed, nodding their heads.

Kai, who had become a great help in this political maelstrom, responded calmly. "Please, think of our situation. We didn't attempt to keep you hostage; it was an... unforeseen consequence. We have used up most of our resources keeping our own citizens safe and stable; we have had to draw on crops from the entire country to sustain our guests and the large amount of our populace that was here for the coronation. We cannot afford, at this time, to repay you for your losses. But rest assured, we will repay you when we have the ability to."

Most of the people at the meeting leaned back, displeased but understanding. The Duke, however, grumbled under his breath. "When are we going to be able to leave, _Your Majesty?_ " He said with a sneer, addressing Anna. "Any news on your 'runaway Queen?'"

Anna sighed, dreading having to speak in front of these... men. But he had addressed the question to her, so she had no choice but to answer it. God, she hated the dance she had to do in order to survive the political war field.

She was terrible at dancing.

"The search parties we have sent out have no seen no sign of Her Majesty. We are afraid that if she does not want to be found, she will not be found." Anna tried to hide the twinge of pain that coursed through her at that - _Oh, Elsa_ - and rushed through the rest of her reply. "Luckily, the warm waters from the south are moving through this area, and my experts assure me that the ice will be gone within the week." Already, the ice was thinning and cracking. Kristoff was having a field day, being assigned the task of harvesting as much of this as he could before it melted. It looked like, even after the reparations had been payed to their visitors, they would have enough money to sustain them selves through the _true_ winter.

The dignitaries nodded, then an old rivalry between the Sinistral and the Ritus flared up and the shouting began anew. Anna groaned, rubbing her cheeks with her hands. _Elsa, where are you?_

A few hours into the meeting, there was a knock on the door, and Kai went to open it. Once he did, a man in a bright red jacket stepped in, flanked by two men in similar attire. Everyone in the room fell silent and stood, lowering their heads in respect. Anna hurriedly stood up, nearly falling as she gave a basic curtsy.

One does not show disrespect to a messenger of the World Court.

The leader's jacket was adorned in gold trim, and he had red and black shako beneath his arm, and a rolled up document in his other. He eyed Anna with distaste, then moved forward to her place at the table. He bowed, clearly unhappy that he had to do so, then stood, towering over her. "Queen Anna, may I speak to the court?"

"You may, but please. Refrain from calling me with queen. I am merely a princess." Anna said, confused and worried about the mans sudden appearance.

The man laughed. "Well, after what I have to say here, you will think otherwise." He turned towards the table unfolding the paper. Anna, with growing amounts of sorrow, realized it was a poster. The word **WANTED** stretched across the top, and he read from the poster.

"The woman formerly known as Queen Elsa of Arendelle is now to be stripped of all her titles and is declared a wanted felon. Any people who harbor her are criminals as well, and face up to ten years imprisonment. Elsa Arendelle is wanted for treason, destruction of royal property, and Regicide. If seen, contact the nearest World Court outstation."

"A reward for her capture will be granted by King Galban, ruler of the southern Isles. The reward is none less than three million gold pieces and ownership of the Harmonic Isles, a small chain of islands owned by the king himself."

The assembled crowd gasped, then listened as he continued talking.

"The land will only be granted if the fugitive is captured alive. Otherwise, the reward is the same amount of gold."

The words took a moment to sink in, but once they did, Anna sat down in her chair, hard.

_Elsa, don't come back!_

The swords clashed and parried, and Elsa grinned as she managed to drive John back half a step. Her twin swords moved in shimmering blue arcs, a coating of ice on each blade. When her sword met a normal sword, snow and ice shards would fly into the air.

When they met Johns sword, there were bursts of steam.

They had progressed past using the wooden swords Bran had carved for them, seeing as she needed to get used to the weight of the steel swords she now called her own. She was also learning to control her powers without needing to use her hands. She could make ice or control what already existed, but making large structures like walls required at least one free hand.

"Your footwork is sloppy." John said, his face showing no emotion as he gave her the advice. Elsa resisted the urge to roll her eyes - a single moment of weakness spells death on the battlefield. Instead, she replied in kind.

"My footwork is perfect, John. I've always been a good dancer." She dodged a lunge, knocking his sword aside with one of her blades, spinning closer with her other, with a slash at his knee. He deflected it with his small shield, pressing her back with a sweeping side blow, then an overhand that she was forced to block with both her swords crossed.

It seemed like thats what they were doing, dancing. The dance was unscripted, as was the song of fire and ice that they danced to. Steel on steel, his flaming blade to her frozen one, the feel of the earth beneath her as she ducked, weaved, parried, slashed, stabbed - she loved it. The swords seemed to sing to her, their leather handgrips comfortable in her hands. She had only been learning to sword fight for weeks, but she knew that she was better than many of the men she would ever face.

Many of them wasn't enough for her. She had to be better than all of them.

One of the few she couldn't beat stood before her now. His sword arched flame, swinging, slashing, breaking through her fragile defenses. One day she would beat him - she knew she would.

But not today. Because she stumbled over a root, hidden beneath the fallen leaves. She glanced down for a split second, finding her footing, but when she looked up the sword was inches from her face. She flung up one of hers to block it, but with a ringing crash it flew from her hands, burying itself in the ground yards away. He slammed into her with his shoulder, and she stumbled to the ground, wincing. She felt heat at her throat as John held the tip of his sword beneath her chin, then pulled away and sheathed it.

"I wasn't lying when I said your footwork needed work. You are graceful, there is no doubt about that, but pure grace is no match against a surefooted opponent." She frowned, then accepted his hand to pull her up. Her hands brushed away dirt from her leather leggings, and she went to retrieve her sword.

Bran still refused to say where her swords had come from. "They were made for you, and only you." That was best answer she had pried from him. He didn't say who made them, or how they knew how well she would fight with them, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"Come on. We still have to hunt for tonights meal." John said, turning and pulling a bow from the bag that rested on the ground. He slung his quiver on his back, then whistled. Ghost emerged from the trees, silent as ever, and stood unmoving as John placed the pack on his back, then left for the cave when John patted him on the back. The wolf would find them once they had caught a deer or a few rabbits for tonights meal, then carry it back for them.

Elsa had a small pouch on her waist, and she reached into it and pulled out a long metal chord. She grinned as she locked the hilts of the two swords together, then strung the metal cord from the protruding hooks on the end of each her blades. Satisfied that it was secure, she drew back on the newly-strung bow, feeling the pressure on her arm as she drew. It had taken her most of the last two weeks to even string this bow - John had had her use a common recurve bow for practice until she was strong enough to use her own.

The bow was massive - nearly as tall as she was, and it was capable of firing the arrow massive distances. She, however, had no quiver on her back - she had no need of conventional arrows.

They set off into the woods, John occasionally stopping to check traps he had strung up. They had caught a rabbit in one of them, but to feed the massive wolves they needed a deer at the least. The wolves could easily catch food on their own, but Elsa required more practice at hunting than they did.

John moved as silently as his wolf, stepping over fallen branches and leaves in a low crouch, not making a sound. Elsa had at first attempted to follow his example, but eventually gave up and resorted to making a bed of snow with every footstep. The snow muffled most sounds she would make, and melted shortly after in the summer heat.

The forest was quiet, the trees shaking in a slight breeze, their green leaves swaying. The air was warm, but Elsa didn't mind it for now. As they walked, rested her hand on a tree, then pulled it away when she touched sap. Frowning, she wiped it off with some snow, then examined her hand.

Calluses were beginning to form on her palms and fingertips, and they were not the frail, thin fingers she had had before she left the kingdom. She was no longer clad in ice, but in clothes that Bran had given to her the day after she had arrived. He arms were bare, and her torso was covered in a thickly padded leather vest. She had a woolen undershirt underneath it, and every morning she wrapped her breasts in bandages to prevent them from moving and causing discomfort, rather than wearing a brassier. Her leather leggings went down past her knees, leaving her calves bare. However, the exposed skin on her legs was covered by the boots that she wore, that came midway up her shins. She stored many things in those boots - mostly knives she probably wouldn't need - but they were actually very comfortable.

She prodded her bare arms, and frowned as she felt muscle, rather than the soft skin that had been there before. Whenever she moved her arms, she could see the tendons stretch and bend under her will. She was no longer the girl who sat, locked in her room, staring out the window.

She was a fighter, now.

Before she could figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing, John snapped his fingers. She looked up, slowly, trying not to disturb whatever he had seen.

Right before them was the clearing they hunted at regularly. The forest ended, and she slowly climbed up the tree he pointed at, her bow at her side, not yet drawn. Once she reached her perch, crouching on a limb midway up the tree, she looked out onto the field.

About three hundred yards away, there was a healthy buck, its tail flicking from side to side as it looked around. Content that it was alone, it bent over to graze on the grass.

Elsa slowed her breathing, drawing the bow back. As she did so, an arrow of pure, hardened ice formed on the string between her fingers, and she looked down the sights. Most archers would say that this show was impossible - almost a thousand feet, at a small target, with shifting winds? With a normal bow, this would be impossible. And no normal archer could dream of hitting this shot.

Elsa was not a normal archer. And this was not a normal bow.

She pulled back on the string, at a full draw. She breathed in. The bow shuddered as the arrow left it, her fingers releasing the string. The arrow hissed, cold as it sliced through the air. There was a resounding 'Thwap' as the drawstring pulled itself back in, and the arrow hurtled at an immense speed, slamming into the side of the deer, piercing its heart.

She breathed out.

She grinned down at John, swinging down the branches of the tree. "Got 'em."

John smiled back. "I didn't doubt you for a second." He whistled again, and Ghost padded into the field, going to retrieve her prize. She smiled, disassembling her bow - Frostbite. She placed the metal cord into the pouch on her waist, then placed the twin swords - Frost and Bitter - back into their single sheath. Bran had told her that that was was what was written on the sides of the blades, and she was pleased with the translation. On the sheath itself, it said 'Nothing is as cold as the final sleep.'

They began their trek back to the cave, and as soon as they arrived they were greeted by Bran, swinging himself around on his crutches. He was packing up the bags, putting strange leather contraptions on the wolves - _were those saddles?_ - and heating up the stew, all at the same time.

"Whats going on, Bran? You shouldn't tire yourself out like this." John said, going to attach the saddles himself. Bran shook his head, going to attend to the rabbit stew.

"I just woke up." He said, in way of explanation. The other two just nodded. "And... Well." He looked up at Elsa, his lips pressed together. "Elsa, there's a bounty on your head worth a small country. We have to leave by dawn."

Elsa was shocked. "What..." Bran wasn't finished however.

"And Elsa... The reward is still available if you are dead."

John sat down, wearily. "Well. We're going to have to be a lot more careful now."

**So. I couldn't wait, I really wanted to write this.**

**Anyhoo... things are about to get a lot more serious. Our Journey has just started.**

**A few things, to those who are curious: **

**Lightbringer is an actual sword in Game of Thrones. **

**Elsa's monster is named Sion (SIGH-on) after a video game character.**

**The names of the other 12 brothers(And the seven sisters) will be revealed soon enough.**

**If you enjoyed the story, leave a favorite, a follow, and/or a review! Every little bit helps me out.**

**Love Y'all!**

**-Arac**


	5. Supply-Demand Issues - Chapter five

**Words in ****_italics_**** are spoken in a different language.**

John sighed, gripping the pommel of his sword in frustration. He sighed. "It can't be helped. Someone is going to have to go into town to get the medicine." Bran smiled weakly up at him, wrapped in the bedroll, sweat beading on his brow. He started to get up, but John kneeled down and pressed on his shoulder. Bran laid back down, trying to protest.

"I'm fine, John. We don't need to slow down because of me."

"We both know that that's a lie, Bran. Besides. It'll only be a few days of rest for us, and if we keep moving now you'll only get worse, and that could delay us for weeks." Bran thought for a moment, then nodded.

Elsa laughed dryly, leaning against a tree, her arms crossed. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before galavanting around in a stream?" Bran had chased a runaway scroll into a river a few days ago, and had come down with a fever the day after. Bran just rolled his eyes at her.

John groaned, pounding his knee with his closed fist. He stood up, pacing across the cave, muttering to himself.

"The problem is, no one in this town speaks my language - or yours, for that matter. They all speak that goddamned Gallay or Gayric or whatever it's called -"

"You mean... Gaelic?" Elsa said, and John turned to look at her. "I happen to speak it fluently, seeing as Irgreen is pretty close to Arendelle. Maybe I could go into town and -"

"No!" They both said at once, John raising a finger to point at her and Brandon sitting up straight. They stopped when Brandon burst out coughing, and John went to get him a glass of tea, unhooking the boiling pot from over the fire. They were currently camped out in a small clearing in the forest, dozens of miles away from the border of Arendelle. The nearest town was just a few miles away, but the culture was radically different compared to her own.

"Oh come on, guys. The town is remote - the chances of them having seen any poster of me. John, if you go in alone, you probably will end up getting attacked by half the town. Even if you don't, theres no way you can get the specific herbs we need and even if you do you'll probably get robbed." John started to talk, but she cut him off. "I'm small, I'm quiet. I can sneak through crowds unnoticed, buy what we need and get out."

John started to rebuke her, then frowned. He really had nothing to say. She made good points, and he knew that there was no real reason to stop her. But he was still worried that someone would recognize her. It had been two months since they had begun their journey - nearly three months since Elsa had left - and he knew by now that she could defend herself quite handily if the situation arose. And that wasn't including her powers.

"I just... don't want to see you hurt, is all. So much rests on your survival - if you are captured, the Southern Isles will suddenly have a foothold that they have been trying to get for years, and they will drown these lands in blood in their quest for power."

Elsa rolled her eyes, pulling her sword out of its sheath, spinning it around and checking for scratches on the blade. Finding none, she placed it back in the sheath and pulled the metal cord from her waist pouch. She ran it through her fingers, checking for frays, then went to put it back in the pouch. She seemed to think better of it, however, and instead wrapped it around her left wrist. She went about the rest of her preparations, getting ready for the trip. John sighed, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a few silver coins and a single gold one.

"Use the gold one to buy the medicine - it's very costly, but it works wonders. Take the change from that and the other coins and buy us some seasonings - anything you want, Bran?" John said, and Bran wearily gave out a list. Elsa pulled a pad of paper from the pack, and scribbled out the list it in Gaelic. She tore off the paper off the pad, folding it up and placing it in a small pocket in her leather vest. She looked around, mentally checking off a list on her mind. Finding that she had nothing left, she went to leave, but John stalled her.

"Wait. We have to do something about... that." Elsa looked at him, confused, as he gestured to her head. "You're hair. Its bright, its noticeable, and we need to cut it."

Elsa gasped. "No way in hell am I cutting my hair, John." John just looked at her for a moment, and they locked gazes, tension in the air. After a moment, John looked away and sighed. He seemed to do a lot more of that now that she was around.

He shrugged his cloak off, sighing as he handed it to her. "At least keep the hood up. That way no one will see it, at least."

"As if that won't be suspect."

"Just do it, Elsa. Humor an old man." John said, exasperated. He rubbed his hands through his hair, knowing that some of it was gray. Elsa nodded, pulling the cloak on but leaving the hood down. She walked away, waving over her shoulder without looking back. John sighed. _If I were ten years younger..._ He thought as her lithe form disappeared into the thick woods.

He shook his head, being truthful with himself as he tended to the small fire.

_Better make that twenty._

Elsa was suddenly anxious as she stepped onto the dirt street, walking past the guards at the entrance to the town. They just eyed her, curiously, but they let her walk past. How much harm could one slip of a girl cause?

The markets of the town were busy, crowded and loud. Besides her coronation, this was the largest amount of people she had ever seen in one place. But unlike her coronation, the people here were brash and obnoxious. Whereas her event had been small and full of polite, quiet tittering, the people here were making a living.

_"Rugs! I sell you nice, fine rugs! Greatest deal on the market!"_ One vender claimed, grabbing her attention with his loud sales pitch and flashy colors. Elsa couldn't help but grin, as he smiled at her. He gestured to his wares, and she held up her hand, politely shaking her head.

_"Ah, miss, you wound my heart. Maybe later, ya?"_

Elsa smiled softly to herself, her tension fading. The people here all seemed to be nice, honest people just out to make a living. She looked out from under her hood, noting the interactions between the dozens of market vendors. John estimated the town to have close to three thousand people, but it was actually quite a bit larger. It was, after all, the last stop before the Dark Oaks; the massive forest and mountain range that spanned the length of the continent. Most of the travelers headed to the east and the few crazy enough to head north stopped here, and those returning from the edges of the continent stopped here to trade their goods, sell furs and other such things. However...

Elsa noted that not all the people were cheerful and smiling. There were quite a few taverns, and from these dark areas there arose a clamor. Occasionally, a dark form would stumble out, glaring at the harsh light. She frowned. She noticed that there were an increasingly large number of not-so-pleasant faces appearing from the crowd. The happy, mingling crowd of traders and locals suddenly seemed to dwindle, and Elsa found herself left with two or three people and a rather large group of angry-looking men. They all looked about the same - armored in leather, armed with a sword at the waist or a bow slung across the shoulder.

They looked rather shoddy and untrained - a few months under Johns expert eye and she could already tell that their stances were off, they were unbalanced and probably untrained with the swords that they carried, save what they had been taught by others like themselves. Except the one in the center of the group.

The man had a massive broadsword slung over his shoulders, and he moved it from side to side with one hand as he talked to his comrades. This easy manipulation of the sword that must have weighed as much as she did spoke of many years using that one weapon. He wore grey, heavy armor, with spiked shoulder pads that overlapped for ease of movement. His massive biceps were bare, but he wore metal gauntlets on his hands and bracers on his forearms. His fingers rippled on the hilt of his sword, and he raised it to point at a stall that a merchant was hiding behind. Elsa noticed that it was the stall of the overzealous rug merchant she had seen before.

"_Callan_!" He shouted, his voice pitched to carry, but not particularly loud. Elsa began to slowly head towards an open shop, planning to wait until the group passed by. She stopped, clenching her fist as he continued to talk. "_You forgot to pay your protection fees last week. We've come to collect."_

The merchant waved his hands, trying to back away slowly. A few of the men - vagabonds - hopped over the counter, 'examining' his wares. Soon, rugs littered the dirty ground, and the man was forced to vacate the stand. The largest man began to walk towards him, swinging his sword from side to side. The merchant began to stutter, trying to talk to them.

_"Please, I do not have money right now! It is too hot. No one needs rugs or blankets in the summer!"_ The large man advanced forward, stomping in his large boots, that massive sword getting closer to the merchant with each step. Elsa could feel the temperature around her drop nearly fifty degrees. Her breath hung in the air, and ice formed on her fingertips. She had to do something to help him - but she couldn't risk getting caught.

_"Well. This is the third offense, Callan."_ The giant man grinned, and his group of people laughed in the background, pulling a large wad of cash out of a drawer in the stand. One of the lackeys shouted to the warrior.

_"This outta cover it, boss!"_ The men hooted and jeered as the leader grabbed the merchant by the collar of his shirt.

_"It's not about the money this time, boys. This ones about sending a message."_ He lifted the sword up, holding it right in front of the Callans face. _"What do you think, hmm? Scar on the cheek? Chop off a bit of an ear?"_ The men laughed.

The laughter stopped when the snowball hit the ringleader in the face, blinding him. He sputtered, wiping snow from his eyes, dropping his victim in the process. The merchant wasted no time running away as the group was distracted, all immensely confused as their leader wiped the rest of the snow from his face.

_"The hell was that?"_ He yelled. He opened his mouth to speak, but this another snowball quickly forestalled his words. _"Fihn Tha Mofurfuher and KILL HIM!"_ he shouted, spitting out the frozen messes.

Elsa quickly faded back away, but she was a bit too late. Her giggles may have also given her position away. _"Over there!"_ One of the men shouted, and she sprinted down the street, hearing the patter of booted feet chasing after her. She turned the corner, and quickly laid down a layer of ice behind her, then dashed into an adjacent alley. She went to turn the corner, only to come up against a closed door.

"Shit."

She went to leave the alley, but a chorus of curses and yelps came from around the corner, and she knew the group had hit her speed trap. Any second now, they would notice that she was no longer on the street and had ducked out of sight. She turned back to the closed door, startled to see a massive man - even larger than the giant warrior - waving at her. He was clad in a garish woolen sweater, even though it must have been close to eighty degrees out.

"Yoo-hoo! Come in, please. Before they see you." She was more startled by the use of her native language than she was at his sudden appearance. She stood for a moment, then ran towards the door. The man let her by, then closed it softly, drawing the curtains.

They stood there for a moment, Elsa panting, the large man listening with his ear against the door. After a moment, he smiled and turned to her.

"This way, your majesty. You must wait here until it is safe to leave - probably not until late tonight."

Elsa was too worried about Johns reaction to notice that he had called her 'Your Majesty' until she was seated at a table, sipping from his tea. Once she did, she sprung up, her swords in her hands. The massive man didn't even bother to turn around, simply placing the teapot back on the stove. "Please put the toothpicks away, Queen Elsa. You are in good company - me and my brother never doubted your innocence for a moment."

Elsa slowly sat back down, placing her swords in their sheaths. The large man sat down with her, introducing himself as Mr. Oaken. His older brother owned a shop on the lower slopes of the North Mountain, and they communicated regularly by mail. Some men came into town a few weeks ago, announcing that Elsa was now a wanted criminal. Minutes after she left, Oaken had gone around town, tearing down the posters they had put up. However, the group of vagabonds she had just escaped from had gotten at least one picture.

"It will be very good if they do not see you, ya? I take the posters, I burn them. They have it right over the bar of their tavern - the Hogs Breath." She asked him about the group, and he sighed.

"They call them selves the Geleach Rothí, or the Moon Riders. They are scum. Feh!" He curled his lip, scorn in his voice. "They are cowards. We were happy town, but then they move in a few weeks ago. They bully the vendors, asking for money in exchange for 'protection.' They try to ask me - I tell them I can protect myself, ya?" He grinned. "I have large battle axe. They choose not to dispute me. Cowards."

Elsa sighed, wishing she could help the town in some way. But she couldn't risk endangering herself at this time. She attempted to tell Oaken about her plans, but he quickly put a massive hand over her mouth.

"Do not tell me. That way, when people ask where you are, I can say I don't know without lying, ya?" Elsa nodded. "So. Why are you here, now? Why do you risk coming into town alone?"

Elsa sighed. "One of my companions came down ill. I need Moonglimmer to cure the illness he has. I also have some spices to pick up." She handed the list to Oaken. He grinned.

"Spices? I sell spices to you. No, I give them to you. I insist." He said, waving away Elsa's attempt to give him the coins. "No, you keep. You will need them." He sighed, taking off his woolen cap and running his hands over his black hair. "Last week, the Moon Riders ransack old woman Angela's herb shop. They take the expensive things, burn the rest." He looked at her apologetically. "I'm afraid that if the Moonglimmer, if there is any, is owned by the Moon Riders." He grimaced.

"And they are not willing to sell."

**Just a warning, shits about to get real.**

**Same as usual - Favorite, Follow it, Review it.**

**I've decided to stop trying to wait until I get enough reviews to post the next chapter - I enjoy writing it too much :P**

**But please, please don't hesitate to tell me what you think. It gets more people to read, it gets me excited, it gets me to write the next chapter faster.**

**Love Y'all!**

**-Arac**


	6. First Blood - Chapter 6

**Ok, guys. I have a present for you all!**

**This chapter is going to be TWICE AS LONG!**

***Dodging knives and snowballs***

**Yeah. So. Expect future chapters to be much longer - the action is getting thicker with every moment.**

**And this is where the M for violence comes into play...**

Elsa sat back in her chair, biting on her lower lip. "Are you sure that's all there is for Moonglimmer in the entire town?"

Cyrus Oaken sighed. "Yes, I am afraid so. And the Moon Riders do not like me. So I doubt very much so that they will sell to me. Maybe someone else, though?" He said, rubbing his black beard, which she noticed was flecked with gray. He had obviously been living in this town for some time, seeing as he had told her the entire layout of the area and people who would help her escape with no questions asked.

Earlier, she had attempted to leave via the front entrance, but there were five men waiting for her there. They didn't spot her, but her only chance for an easy departure was nipped at the bud. She went back to Oaken's shop, and he began to outline a plan to get her over the wall. He had to call in favors, ask for favors, and bribe a few people - still refusing Elsa's offer of payment.

They sat at his table now, waiting for nightfall. The sun was setting, and they planned on waiting a few hours after for the group to fall into their nightly stupor. He told her that the group she had seen on the streets was only a quarter of the group - the other ones were in shadier areas nearby, dealing with matters that had to be kept out of daylight.

Oaken's face had a grim look whenever he spoke of the vagabonds. "They have the town in their pocket, and quite a few others nearby. They bribe the town guards, ya? The people who are supposed to protect us from these bastards bury themselves in silks and avert their eyes." Oaken's massive fist slammed into the table, causing Elsa and the tableware to jump.

"They lie, they cheat, they steal from us - we are under war in our own town, yet no one fights back!" He shouted. "I try to get the rest of the town to help us - they are not but a hundred, but we have a thousand men who could fight back. If we just show up at their door and tell them to leave, they will tuck their tails between their legs and run, I know it." He sat down, picking up his cup, his massive hands dwarfing the tiny object. He set it down gently, the act at total odds with his demeanor.

"But they all say no. 'Is not big deal.' They tell me. 'They will leave eventually.' they tell me at first. But now the weed has taken root, and if we do not act fast the entire town will wither." He stood up abruptly, taking the dishes to the sink, setting the teapot atop his stove. He sighed. "Every day, more men come to join them. Our town grows - not prospers, as it once was. It is slowly becoming a haven to criminals." He turned back around, the scowl on his face matching the scorn in his words.

"Wandering asks me why I left Arendelle. That is why." Elsa looked at him, puzzled.

"Arendelle is a haven to criminals?"

Oaken looked at her, as if surprised she was still there. "I forget, you were locked in the castle for so long." He sighed yet again. "When King Agdar, your father, sealed the gates, he payed very little attention to the outside world. There are many rumors as to what happened - he fell ill, the queen had had a miscarriage, someone had died - but for the ten years that the gates were closed, crime rates doubled each year. Everywhere in Arendelle, you can find drug dens if you are but to throw a stone, and if you throw that stone into a crowd chances are you will hit a criminal of some sort." He sneered. "I left to avoid that crime. And yet, it is upon me, in the form of a familiar face."

Elsa honestly didn't have a clue about the state of her nation. She had been opened up the gates for a day? Two days? And then ran. _Turns out I'm a good queen for the kingdom after all. A kingdom of thieves, let by a murdering queen._

"A familiar face?" Elsa asked, distractedly. Oaken nodded, grimly.

"The leader of the group is named Kori. Kori Targarynen. Claimed he was royalty, acted like the swine he really is. Feh." Oaken sighed. "He was a captain in the Arendelle Military, but his superior officer kicked him out for subordination. Turns out he had been working for both sides. Suffice to say, once one side kicked him out, he embraced the other with open arms."

He went to continue, but there was a knocking on the back door. Oaken looked at her, worried, and she simply nodded. She pulled the cowl of her cloak over her head, backing into a corner, behind a display case, crouching out of sight.

Oaken peeked out from behind the curtain, then grinned and opened the door.

"Yoo-hoo, Papa!" A girl, about Elsa's age, stepped into the shop. Oaken leaned down, embracing her in a massive hug. Oaken released her, and she smiled up at him. The girl was a little shorter than Elsa, with long black hair that reached down to her waist. She was clad in a gray tunic, and her smile shone radiantly up at her father.

"Cerra! I thought you got lost on your way to the market. I was about to send out a search party." Oaken smiled, his affection for the girl obvious. Elsa felt a pang of jealousy, then drowned it out with her own guilt.

_You had that once. And you threw it away._

"Worried about me? Silly old man. So, who were you talking to? I heard a very feminine voice in here... have you found yourself a lady friend?"

Oaken stuttered. "Uhm. What?" Cerra looked at him, her eyebrow raised. "I do not know what you are talking about. People? No. There is no one here! I am... I am talking to myself, ya? Papa is crazy." He chuckled nervously, but he was truly a terrible liar.

After a moment, Cerra huffed. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at the older man, and he sheepishly put his hands behind his back and turned his gaze down. Elsa stifled a giggle - he looked like a seven foot tall, three hundred pound two year old.

"Well. For whatever reason, she's still hiding -" Cerra pitched her voice not just to her father, but to the entire room "- so she's either a wanted criminal or a very shy young lady. And no father of mine would harbor a fugitive. So come on out."

Elsa stood up slowly, flicking her hood back. "I'm afraid I've made a liar out of you, Cerra. He is indeed harboring a fugitive." Cerra's jaw dropped, and she sputtered as Elsa bowed. "The Exlie, Elsa Arendelle, previously known as Queen Elsa, at your service."

Cerra dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead to the floor. "Please forgive me, Your Majesty." She glared up at her father. "I wasn't aware that we were going to have visitors today."

"Please, stand up. And I am no longer royalty, so please, do not refer to me as such." The girl rose to her knees, smiling as Elsa helped pull her up the rest of the way. "Your father had no knowledge of my arrival until just a little while ago. I ran into some... unsavory people on a trip to town. He is being kind enough to house me until I have what I came for."

"Let me guess. You need some medicine that only the Moon Riders have?" Cerra said, crossing her arms, scowling. It seemed she shared the same contempt for the vagabonds that her father had - not that it was surprising. She grinned at her fathers shocked expression. "She's not about to come into town to buy jewelry, and she could probably hunt for food pretty easily. The only other reasons to risk capture are clothing and medicine - and she seems well clothed to me. And seeing as the Riders ransacked Angela's shack a few weeks ago, and she hasn't come back since..."

Oaken smiled. "Thats my daughter. Sharp as a whistle, Ya?" He beamed at Elsa, and she smiled back weakly.

Cerra sighed. "So, Elsa can't very well go buy the medicine herself. Neither can you, father - Kori will gut you in an instant. He's weak when he's alone with you, but if you walk into the Hog's Breath alone, there's not a chance in hell you'll come out alive." She gasped, turning to Elsa, bowing again. "Pardon my breach of etiquette, your maj-"

Elsa put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her upright. "Please. If you want to help me, stop referring to me as royalty. Not only is it unnecessary, if done in public, it could get us all in trouble." Cerra nodded slowly, her lips pressed tight together. "And I no longer deserve the title, anyway." Elsa sighed and took her hair out of its braid, pulling together some loose strands and putting it back together, wrapped into a bun this time.

"You know, if you really want to go incognito, you should cut your hair short." Cerra said, cocking her head to the side.

Elsa groaned. "Why does everyone want me to cut my hair? You, Bran, John -" she stopped herself, groaning again as she realized she had given a little too much away. Cerra's eyes lit up.

"Is that who you're traveling with?"

"Yes. John is my... well. Hunting companion? Swordsmaster? He's my teacher, to say the least. Bran is our... compass. Unfortuneatly, Bran took a bit of a swim and caught a cold a few days ago, so we need some Moonglimmer before he gets worse. We need to get North before winter hits, otherwise they'll be trapped for the long haul."

Cerra nodded. "You can't buy it, you can't take it, you can't otherwise obtain it on your own... Maybe I can -"

"No." Oaken said, surprising the girls. "I refuse to put you in danger."

"Father, please -"

"I said no! Cerra. And that's final." He turned to Elsa, a weak smile on his face. "Your majesty, would you mind stepping upstairs for a bit? We need to have a... discussion, ya?"

Elsa went upstairs, examining the immense collection of books that lined the hall, trying to tune out the shouts from downstairs. When she had left, Cerra and Clydus both had had very fierce, stubborn looks on their faces. She wasn't sure who would win the argument.

She walked to the end of the hall, coming across a door that was locked from the inside. Curious, she froze inside of the wall with a thin layer of frost, finding that it was locked with a deadbolt. She moved the ice on the lock, sliding the deadbolt open and pushing the door. Why would someone lock a door from the inside? And how?

She had a moment of trepidation, but then steeled herself. Guilt didn't come into the equation - after all she had done, a bit of trespass was woodchips in a forest. The door swung open on hinges that squeaked with rust. The inside of the door was dark, and she lifted up her hand, imbuing it with power. The white-blue glow light up the room, and the objects it shone upon shocked her to her core.

There was nothing in the room, save a pile of boxes and two large glass cases. In one case was a battle axe larger than she was. In the other was a set of purple and green armor, a good two feet taller than she was. It wasn't the armor that surprised her - it was that she had seen it before.

It was a set of armor that was only worn by one person at a time.

The Master General of the Arendelle Royal Army.

There was a slight cough behind her, and she turned on her heal, stammering out an apology as Oaken smiled down at her. He forestalled her with a beefy hand - a hand she now noticed was calloused in a way that only a fighters could be. There were many scars on that hand.

He pulled off his hat, casting it to the side, and she noticed that there was a grey-white scar on his head where no hair grew.

"Your majesty." He said, and suddenly she knew where she had seen him before.

_"Elsa, I want you to meet someone. This is Clydus, commander of the armed forces." Agdar kneeled down, rubbing his daughters back - cold, as always - as she hid behind his leg, staring up at the massive man._

_"Hello, little one." The giant said, smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling. "Your father and I are close friends, Ya? You remind me so much of my daughter. Only with a lot brighter hair. Same curious eyes, though." He bent down on his knees, still towering over the girl. "I recently... decided to take a break from my post in the army, and your father offered me a job for the time being. I'm going to teach you to swordfight!" He beamed down at the girl, who looked at her father, confused and a little horrified._

_"Would you like that, Elsa?" Agdar asked._

_"N- No!" Elsa said, backing away._

_"I don't want to hurt anybody. Ever."_

"Cl-Clydus..." she said, blinking at the memories.

"It is fine, Elsa. And may I say - you have grown into a fine young woman. Agdar would be proud." Elsa teared up at the compliment, even though she was sure that the giant was wrong.

He sighed, looking to the glass cases. "I hoped to never have to come here ever again. But, I guess I must use it one last time, ya?" He looked to Elsa, grimacing. "Cerra's tongue is sharper than mine is stubborn, it seems. She is going to attempt to buy some moonglimmer, and I am going as... protection? I will wait outside, and if there is so much as a squeak, I will move heaven and hell to get to her." He set his jaw, moving to the glass cases. Elsa left the room, going to head back downstairs.

"Oh, and Elsa?" She turned back to him, her eyes flying wide as he swung the massive axe in one hand, obviously having years - decades - of practice with the weapon. "I am sorry I did not get to teach you how to fight. But it looks like someone else beat me to it." He smiled, then opened up the case with armor, and stared at it as if it were the casket of an old friend. She walked down the stairs, her mind whirling like a blizzard.

Cerra didn't speak to her when she came down - the girl was still fuming, presumably over the argument. A few minutes later, Oaken walked down the stairs, his massive set of armor shuddering the wooden steps with each footfall. He didn't say much, either, just nodded to his Queen. "We will be back by nightfall." An earnest claim, seeing as the sun was setting as they opened the door to leave, heading into a battle of their own.

Elsa's mind was still in turmoil as the duo left.

'_I recently... took a break from my post._'

Snippets of conversation started to flow from the back of her mind, threatening to break down the barriers she had constructed. A tear ran down her cheek, then froze as it fell off her chin, shattering as it hit the table.

She suddenly remembered one conversation she had with her father when she was eight. It was late at night, and she had left her room for the first time all week, knowing that Anna was bedridden with the flu. She had roamed the halls, coming across her father's study, and she heard a strange sound.

Her father was... crying?

_"Daddy?"_ _She had asked, confused. Her father didn't - couldn't - cry._

_He had sat up straight, then turned to her after a moment. His eyes were red._

_"Elsa, dear. You should be in bed."_

_"Whats the matter, Daddy?"_

_The king sighed. "Remember the man I had you meet last year? Clydus? He recently quit the military for good, and has said that he is leaving for Irgreen. He plans to set up a teashop, of all things - the bull amongst the china, if you will." Agdar chuckled grimly._

_"Why is he leaving?" Elsa asked, curious._

_Agdar debated wether or not to tell his daughter, but finally broke down under those giant blue eyes. "His wife died last year, and he took a leave of absence from his job. Her returned to it a few months ago, but then some foreign noble who had taken a post in the military started spreading rumors. Long story short, they got into a fight, and the man was kicked out. Clydus decided to leave just a few days ago."_

_Elsa yawned, and he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. "But enough of that, princess. Someone is up past her bedtime."_

"_A foreign Noble..."_

_"Kori was kicked out for subordination..."_

_"A familiar face..."_

_Cerra frowned._

Elsa shot up from her chair, sprinting for the door. She suddenly had an immense feeling of dread, and she rushed to the Hog's Breath, noting, with no small amount of fear, that the moon was already high in the sky.

She feared that she was too late.

There was a chorus of hooting and hollering coming from inside the tavern, and a drunk man was seated against the wall, nursing what appeared to be a sore stomach. There was no sign of Clydus, and no sounds of a fight that would bely his presence inside the tavern. She frowned. Maybe they had taken a back route to the shop, and were headed there already? It wouldn't hurt to get closer, at the very least.

She walked slowly to the entrance, the shouting getting louder with each step. Her back was pressed against the wall, so that way if someone burst from the building she wouldn't be seen. She ran her gaze across the street, her eyes lingering on the drunk man for a moment before continuing. She looked back, shocked. That was no drunk...

"Oh no."

"El- Elsa..." Clydus coughed, sputtering as he held his hand to his stomach, trying to staunch the flow of crimson that poured between his steel-coated fingers.

She ran forward, hoping that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, but he waved her away. "It's too late for me, Your Majesty." He said, his smile red as he coughed up blood. "But please. He took... Cerra..."

Elsa took a step back, her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried not to scream. Oaken gasped, looking up, then raising his hand, a smile on his face.

"Isabelle..."

His hand dropped, and she didn't have to feel for a pulse to know that he was dead. Slowly, she lowered his eyelids, standing over the corpse for a moment. She had killed yet another person.

A scream from inside broke her out of her stupor. "PUT ME DOWN! DADD-" The scream was cut off, and she knew who that voice belonged to.

She turned to the entrance of the Hogs Breath, her face obscured in the shadow of Johns cloak.

She decided then and there that she was going to break a promise she had made before.

Now, she wanted to hurt someone.

Ezekiel - Zeke, as the rest of the men called him - was one of the newest members of the Moon Riders. He loved his new job, he would tell anyone who would listen. So far, it had been a great day. That fatass who had humiliated him had got a belly full of sword. That would teach him to throw people. Then the boss had taken the pretty, but stupid, girl upstairs to his room. Fighting and fucking - two of his favorite pastimes. The job came with a lot of perks. Decent food, good pay, great ale - and, as it seemed, amazing women. He grinned, turning to his friends.

"D'ya think that Kori will let us have a shot at that girl when he's done with her?" He asked, slurring his speech. The men looked at him, thinking. Zeke grinned. "If theres anything left, that is?" The men burst out laughing, patting Zeke on his back. He downed another draft of ale, but all the warm glow he had worked on creating all night was washed away as the door opened. He suddenly shivered, his thin shirt not warm enough in the sudden cold. What the hell? It had to be at least sixty degrees outside, even at night.

He turned to the door, confused as he saw the figure there, clad in a dark cloak that reached the floor. After a moment, he recognized it as the bastard from that morning.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you!" He said, stumbling to stand in front of the person that had given him the slip earlier before. "Y've gotta lotta nerve, showing you're ugly mug around here." The roar of the crowd fell silent as they turned to the door, confused at the newcomer's seemingly suicidal arrival.

Zeke grinned. He was easily a half-foot taller than the man in the cloak. But it still didn't answer, didn't move, didn't even look up at him. "Hey, ugly! Answer me when I talk to you." Ugly. He liked the sound of that work. Ugly ugly ugly.

"You're in my way. I suggest you get out of it."

The voice came from the hood, and he frowned. Who the hell did he think he was? Zeke went to ask that - with the use of his new favorite word, of course - when two slender hands reached up to pull the cloak back. Whoa. Not so ugly.

The girl glared up at him - no it was worse than a glare. The eyes were pretty, though. So was that hair. The long, braided blonde hair... Where had he seen that before?

"Hey, you're - You're that chick! From the- From the poster!" He turned, looking back to the rest of the room. "It's that -"

A foot of blue steel sprouted from his chest, stopping the rest of his words. Elsa pulled the sword back, oddly calm as the body fell forward, collapsing onto the floor. There was no blood - just a mass of jagged red ice that protruded from the wound.

For a moment, there was silence as she stepped over the body, drawing her other sword to hold it in her hands. The men were still drunk, some of them passed out, and the stunned silence continued as she walked up to one such man, swinging her sword down ward.

When mans head hit the ground, the real ruckus started. Elsa locked the hilts of her swords together, pulling the cord out from around her wrist, stringing frostbite, then pulling back in one smooth motion. The men were still disoriented, but one - either not a drinker, or capable of handling more ale - stood up in the back, fumbling with his bow. An icy arrow to the eye stopped him, and his face became encrusted with ice as gravity claimed his body.

Elsa fired three more arrows, each one hitting its mark. Ice buried itself in a throat, a heart, another eye. The men closest to her had just begun to draw their swords, and she calmly removed the metal cord from her bow, unlocking the hilts, setting up her stance as the first man rushed her. One sword, horizontal at her abdomen, the other held diagonally over her face and chest.

She dove into the dance of ice and steel, her swords deadly with nearly every strike. The first man raised his sword to slice down at her, but a quick jab at his chest freed his sword from his hands, and his life from his body.

Two men - not out of planning, but out of coincidence - swung at her at the same time. She easily blocked both swords, shards of ice breaking off of her swords, then reforming on the blades. She _pulsed_ with her mind, and the lethal shards defied gravity, burying themselves in the mens faces and chests instead of the ground. They both dropped their swords on the ground, clutching their faces in agony.

Their heads joined the swords not a second later.

Sweeping her swords together, she clove the man in front of her in two, then leaned back as an arrow flew over her head. Everything seemed so slow to her - herself included. She twisted, jabbed, lunged, dodged and slashed, cutting anything with a pulse until it stopped having one. Soon, the ice on her blade froze red, making a stark contrast with her blue blades. Men screamed around her, falling dead as she spun, a figure of pale skin and blonde hair, speckled with crimson as she killed.

She killed, and killed, and killed, severed limbs falling like trees in a forest, blood pouring like rain as she danced. She spun, burying her sword in a chest, then turned, blocking a strike from a hatchet that had been flung at her face. She released the sword that was currently held stable, snatching the handle of the hatchet out of the air, the weapon becoming covered in frost instantly. She threw it at the man who had thrown it at her, and he fell without a sound.

She was a goddess of death, the men realized. She was a monster. She was a demon.

She was all of these things to them, but to her she was just a girl, lost and alone in a world that was so cruel. She struck back at those who struck at her - that was the nature of the fight. A few men fled, and she let them. It didn't make sense to kill the smart ones.

Soon, she was the only one standing, the floor covered in the dead and dying, Elsa herself covered in blood. There came a set of footsteps behind her, and she whirled. Something dark and heavy was flung at her, and she ducked, standing up after it flew overhead. She stood back up, then leaned back quickly as the massive broadsword flashed by her face. She stumbled, and the sword bit into her skin, cutting a shallow gash from her cheekbone to her chin. She glared at Kori, who merely grinned at her.

"I've been looking for a good fight for ages!" he bellowed, grinning as he wiped spittle from his mouth. "Clydus was fun, but he stopped fighting the second I grabbed his darling daughter. He even took off his armor and everything!" Kori boasted, gesturing to his new set of purple and green armor. "I always wanted to wear this. Now I get to.

"As for the girl - well, she put up a nice fight - scratched me a little. But, she lost." The large man waved his hand to the dark object he had thrown at her. Elsa turned for a split second, and her heart dropped as she saw Cerra's eyes, no longer curious but lifeless. A red smile stretched across her throat.

Kori threw his head back, laughter bellowing through the building, the sound strange amongst the silence of the dead and the steady drip of blood from her blades. He looked back down, just in time to see the fist, coated in ice, slam into his nose.

Kori sputtered, spitting blood. "How dare you -" The breath escaped from his body as he clutched his neck, his windpipe nearly collapsing from the open-handed jab. He went to suck in air, but suddenly Elsa was inches from his face, breathing frozen agony into his lungs.

Elsa watched as the man turned to ice, his face twisted in agony, his hands spasming. When he was done with his convulsions, she picked up his massive sword, groaning at the effort, then forced it into his chest. She turned back to the Cerras body, closing her eyes, then kneeled, closing her eyes. After a moment, she reached into the dead girl's pocket, pulling out a bundle of green leaves. Moonglimmer.

She looked around the room, at the people who were there and the one who was outside.

She slowly began to count them all.

There were forty-three people she had killed in this town.

That raised the death total to forty seven.

Elsa leaned her back against the wall, looking at the leaves in her hand. So much blood spilt, just to ease the trouble of one life.

How much blood would she have to spill to save a kingdom?

**So. Blood, gore, Elsa being a Baus Ass Bitch.**

**I warned you.**

**And, if you don't like the fact I killed off some good guys, don't read anything related to GoT.**

**So. Next chapter will be out when I can get it done.**

**In other news, I require a Beta! Someone to proofread my chapters, yell at me when I'm not writing, give me advice and tips.**

**Please email me at marsmaniac5 if you are interested in this horrible job.**

**Love Y'all!**

**-Arac**


	7. Revelations - Chapter 7

John was worried for Elsa.

The girl had returned, weary and bloodstained, well past midnight. She hadn't said a word, simply tossed a packet of green leaves onto the ground in front of him, tossed his bloodstained cloak to the ground, then climbed into her sleeping roll and fallen asleep.

He had reason to believe the sleep was not a very long one.

It had been three days since she had returned on the mission, and Bran was healthy as an ox. Well, an ox with two legs. They were to begin traveling tomorrow, so they were getting a good nights sleep right now.

Two of them were. One of them was having a nightmare.

Elsa shivered in the cold, alone in the forest. She had no idea where she was.

"Bran? John?" She could see her breath on the air, but that wasn't was concerned her. The problem was that she was cold.

_She_ was _cold._

Elsa was never cold. Not ever. In the middle of a blizzard, under a freezing waterfall, buried in a snowbank. She didn't get cold. It didn't happen.

So why was she now?

Off in the distance, a twig snapped, and she hurriedly reached for her swords. When she pulled them out, however, it was not Frost and Bite that greeted her. Instead, it was the sword she had taken from that icy ground where she had left Han's body. It was held together with red ice - frozen blood, she realized, as a drop of it fell from the tip and hit the floor.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the forest. She was in the tavern again, holding the sword, surrounded by dead men. She turned, looking around, seeing blood everywhere. On the walls, on the ground, on herself.

She was splattered with it. She wore a dress much like the one she had created in her ice castle, but this one was red, forged with frozen crimson. She dropped her sword, aghast, but a hand picked it up and raised it to her. Shocked, she saw Kori standing there, blood dribbling from his mouth as he held her blade up to her. He was covered with a layer of ice, grinning as he held the sword by the blade. She backed up, but bumped into a cold figure. It was the boy she had killed first, standing there with a grin on his face and ice coating his body.

Slowly, all the men stood, all bearing frosty grins. One of them began to laugh, and they all picked up on it, giggling hysterically as she whirled in a circle, terrified. She stopped, facing Kori, and he fell to the ground, kneeling.

"We serve you, Ice Queen." He said, looking up at her, still grinning. "We are your army. Let us fight for you! Let us shed blood in your name! Let us kill as you killed us!" Elsa stared, terrified, as all the dead men nodded.

"For the ice queen!" They said, raising swords to the air. Kori smiled. "We just need one thing." He stood, towering above her, then reached a hand towards her.

"Your heart."

Elsa woke up screaming, hugging her knees to her chest as tears streamed down her face. John was sitting on the ground in front of her, holding his hand on her shoulder. She sat up, still crying, and he pulled her into him.

They sat that way for a moment, Elsa crying, tears freezing as they fell off her face; John not saying a word, holding the young woman to him. After a moment, he sighed.

"I remember when I first killed a man." He said, brushing Elsa's hair with his hand. "I hated myself for weeks. How could I have done that? Granted, he was trying to kill me at the time, but I still hated myself for it." Elsa sat up, looking at him.

"I eventually came to the realization that he was dead, and I was grieving over him as if he were a loved one and not someone who deserved his fate. I realized that I killed him because I had to. Because something had to be done." John sighed again. "I seen some people die who I wish could have lived." He gained a faraway look in his eyes, then shook his head. "But never have I killed someone without an honest reason. The same goes for you."

Elsa looked at him for a moment, then looked down. "No."

"I killed my sister. And today, I caused the death of a good man and his daughter. The men I killed may have been monsters, but I killed them with hatred in my heart, not any sense of justice. And you expect me to be the cause of many, many more deaths in the future. How am I supposed to live with that if I cannot live with the deaths of forty-seven already?"

John gasped, but from behind her, Bran whistled. "Fourty one of them, eh? All for little ol' me." She turned, glaring at him. "Elsa, you have never killed a single person who did not deserve death. Those men must have truly been monsters for someone as kind as you to turn to bloodshed in order to stop them."

Elsa scoffed. "I'm not kind."

Bran shook his head, as did John.

"You exiled yourself from your own homeland to protect them from your actions. Once you found that wasn't enough, your first thought was to give yourself up to atone for that. And when that was said to be futile, you agreed without a second thought to risk your life to trek across an entire continent, gain control of an army of ice demons, then walk all the way back across the continent to save the homeland who you think calls you a monster. If that is not someone who cares about her people, please tell me what is." John said from behind her, and Elsa sighed.

The next words shocked her to her core.

Bran looked at her and smiled. Casually, as if it were like discussing the weather, he said "Oh. And your sister is alive and well, by the way."

No one saw the slap coming, not even Elsa. Bran clutched his cheek, shocked, as Elsa reared her hand back for another one. John grabbed her wrist, turning her around. "He probably deserved that. But would you have come with us if we told you? She awoke not even a week after you exiled yourself. She is fine and well, married to that boy with the reindeer you sent off with her."

Elsa just stared at him, so many emotions running through her head at one time. Relief, Anger, Sorrow, Longing - she was just so confused. John hugged her, patting her head as she began crying with joy. Anna was alive! She hadn't murdered her sister, she wasn't a monster.

After a few moments, Elsa fell onto her bedroll, the past few sleepless nights as well as the exaughstion that came from being so happy taking its tole. She slept happily, dreaming about her sister.

John looked over to Bran, after making sure the sleeping girl was was okay. "Think we should tell her about her parents?"

Bran thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. She'll have to figure that out on her own. And if we did tell her, there's no way in hell we could keep her with us. Besides." He said, rubbing his face. "I really don't want to get slapped again."

The table was massive, made with granite and embedded with precious stones. The rock was smooth to the touch, worn down by human means. The king sat in a massive, high-backed chair at the end of the table, watching as his many children entered. Twenty-two children he had sired. Twenty now, seeing as one had died in an... unfortunate boating accident some four years ago. And another had died recently. That was why he had gathered the Princes and Princesses of the Southern Isles to Synholme; he needed to make an announcement and a promotion.

He ran a hand through his grey hair, watching as the last of his children walked through the door. They sat themselves from oldest to youngest, going clockwise from his right to his left. There would have been two empty seats, but he had had his servants remove them already. So the purpose of the meeting had already been detirmined by a few of the brighter ones, noting Hans's absense.

Erak was not one of these. He was a feirce warrior, but not exactly a genius. He was, however, the oldest, and most likely to inherit the throne when he died. Most likely, unless one of the others made a more compelling case, beat him in a trial of combat or killed him.

The first and last were the most likely options.

His sons, from oldest to youngest, were seated on his left side. Erak, the eldest, was entering his fourtieth year. Then was Uld, who was more of a scholar than a leader - if the throne was handed to him, he would most likely pass it off. He even had a book in front of him at this very moment, for gods sakes. Then there was Sean, Alex and Torin - they'd probably make good kings, but they were in their early thirties and had just started families. They were too busy for ambition. Then there was the twins - Derek and Jared. They were quiet, and spent most of their time together, plotting whatever it was they were currently doing. They were scientists, always up in their laboratoy. Rumor had it that they were no longer testing on rats, and had moved to more... intelligent test subjects.

No matter. They could do as they pleased with their land, as long as they still got him the taxes they required. Their technological discoveries had advanced the country ahead by miles, while the rest of the world crawled at their snail-pace. They had also done a few... improvements on one of his daughters.

Then there was Connor. A curious sort of man, Connor locked himself in the top tower of his castle for months on end, emerging only when absolutely needed. Rumors were that he fancied himself a sorceror of some sort.

Then there were the two male triplets - Ra and Set. They bickered constantly, but in a menial way. There was never really a true fight between the three triplets. The youngest three were all born of the same mother - Stabb, Inton and Hans. They were a trio of monsters when put together. But, the elder two had been locked up in jail for stealing a crown or some such nonsense. Hans had tried to steal a crown of his own.

Look where that had gotten him.

Then was the seven daughters. None of them were every likely to gain control of the throne, unless there was a massive coup. And if any of them were going to stage one, it would be the eldest, Cyrin. She was in her mid-thirties, and commanded the second largest set of her own islands, the only one larger owned by Erak. She was cold, cruel and calculating, one of the smartest - and cruellest - of the clan. Next in line of the females was Roa, who was honestly not interested in the throne. She preferred to swordfight and joust as if she were a man, not a woman. Rumor had it that she had killed men for asking for her hand without asking for a trial in combat first.

The third triplet, Ibis, spent her time with her brothers. Not much to say about her - she was pretty, and had married a minor lord from some country in the east. The fourth daughter was not present, however - she was the first of the siblings to die. No big loss. The fifth daughter, Crysti, was the smartest person in the room, without a doubt. She was not cruel nor ambitious, however. She spent all of her time with Uld and the twins, developing theories in the field of mathematics, of all things. Next was Seraph - she was pretty, but empty headed. He reminded himself to marry her off to some lord, seeing as she had no province of her own to control.

The final daughter was not at her seat, and he sighed, turning to look behind him.

"Come out, Daenerys. Now is not the time for play." The empty wall he was talking to didn't reply. "I mean it."

Slowly, a figured stepped out from the shadow at the base of the wall. He hair was pure black, and she seemed to rise out of the ground, forming herself out of the very shadow. Her eyes were pure red, and she grinned - a feral sort of grin, telling of bloodlust and a love for violence.

She was his favorite daughter.

Born with the power of Darkness, she was able to manipulate shadows to form at her will. He used her as his greatest assassin, capable of killing men simply by touching their shadows. No one really knew the depth of her abilities, and no one really wanted to find out. Even the twins, who had spent years... improving her, had no knowledge of how strong she was.

"How could you tell, Father?" She asked, walking slowly to her seat. She kicked her feet up on the table, laughing as Seraph scooter her chair away from her.

"Thats where you always hide if you aren't sitting in your chair. Now is not the time for idle questions, people. Hans is dead." The gathered crowd was not really surprised. Someone had to die in order to call a meeting of this sort, and Hans was the only one not present. "I have given control of his territories to Daenerys, and set a reasonable price on the head of his killer. However, I do not expect any bounty hunters to capture the murderer." He sighed. "It seems she has powers equal to, if not greater than Daenerys." The group was all shocked at this - save the Shadow Princess herself, who merely grinned.

After a moment, Uld spoke up. Always the first to question. "So... who killed him, father?" The assembled royals nodded, looking for an answer.

The king smiled. "Queen Elsa of Arendelle." The shock was plain, for a moment. Some of them were concerned. Others just grinned, knowing what would happen next.

"The combined fleets of whoever wishes to go will wage war on Arendelle. We leave next month." He turned to Daenrys, nodding his head. "Your fleet will lead the charge. Who wishes to assist her?"

Erak stood up immediately, as did Roa and the Twins. The three triplets all stood up as well.

King Galbet smiled. The combined fleets were already larger than the population of Arendelle.

"Once you have secured the country as our own, send word back to us. I will send out my fleet -" There was a gasp from all the listeners present "- and we will wage war upon the entire continent. The death of our brother has won us much more today. Praise Hans!" He shouted, and the rest of the group echoed his call.

"Praise Hans!"

He smiled.

Now was the time to go to war.

**IT LIVES!**

**Yo, Im here with chapter 7 of this one. Sorry if you wanted to read this and instead got Fractals - I had an idea, so i went with it. I am Sowwwwy .**

**No violence in this one D: But plenty of crucial plot development. Like, a ton.**

**"Should we tell her about her parents?"**

**So, yeah. Thanks for reading, drop a review, a PM, a fave/follow, your pants, whatever.**

**Love Y'all!**

**-Arac**


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